Mismatched (31 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY

RIDLEE

WHEN A LAWYER TELLS A family member she’s sorry for not being around for two weeks because she’s been too busy, they usually have a hard time understanding. A best friend in crisis is worse than that. Talk about a downward spiral. Erin won’t even look at me as I sit across the bar from her.

“Erin, I swear to God, I’ve been working non-stop for two weeks!”

“Right,” she says as she yanks down the tap for a beer she’s pouring for another customer. “Too busy. Got it.”

I lean in to plead without letting the entire bar know our business. “It’s a mass-tort action, Erin. Millions of dollars are at stake. If I didn’t stay there at that office until three in the morning and then at the hotel where they were preparing, I would have been fired.”

She moves away to serve the beer, and I watch her as she goes. Her movements are stiff and I could swear she’s lost weight. Looking around the bar, I can probably guess what’s bothering her, but I don’t need to. Her constant stream of angry texts over the past week have told me the whole story. Michaél has more than made his presence felt; he’s pretty much taken over. No more neon leprechauns, no more drinking contests, no more of any of the things that Erin had incorporated into the business over the last year exist here anymore.

Erin’s back at the beer taps and her mood isn’t any better. She fixes a bitter smile on her face. “So you hung out at the Ritz with all your lawyer friends, too busy having room service to just drop by, is that it?”

“Hung out? Room service?” I shake my head at her. “Listen, Erin, I know you’re pissed at what Michaél’s done, but that has nothing to do with me working on a case at the firm.”

“No,” she leans in and hisses at me, “but it has
everything
to do with me following your legal advice and ending up in this situation.”

So that’s it. That’s what’s bothering her above everything else. It’s like a knife has been stabbed into my heart and twisted. She really believes what she just said.

She stops talking and then presses her lips together. I can’t tell if she feels angry or guilty about her accusation, but it doesn’t matter. Now I’m pissed, and not at her.

Michaél saunters over from the other side of the bar where he was chatting with some woman he was serving drinks to. According to Erin’s texts, he’s working here full time ‘to get a feel for the business’ or so he says.

“Do you want to continue to discuss this here or should we go into your office?” I ask in a carefully measured tone. The last thing I want is for the enemy to know that Erin’s in a weak position emotionally. If she’s blaming me for this mess, that means she feels like she doesn’t have a friend in the world, and I need to fix that.

“My office would be lovely,” she says with fake cheer. She throws a bar towel down under the bar top and moves off, not even acknowledging Michaél.

“Everything okay over here?” he asks. The dick has the gall to smile at me.

I watch Erin’s back, making sure she’s far enough away that she won’t hear our conversation. Then I lean in and pretty much growl my words at him.

“No, asshole, everything is not fine here. And I’d love to have a conversation with you about what a fucking scammer you are, but I can’t because you have an attorney and I can only talk to her.”

He’s still smiling. “I’d be happy to waive that rule so ye can get whatever ye have to say off yer chest.”

“Unfortunately, I’m
not
happy to wave it.” I give him a sour smile as I get off the barstool. “Because the things I’d want to say to you would probably get me dis-barred.” I pause for just another moment before leaving him at the bar. “Enjoy playing your little game, Michaél, because it’s almost over. And when it’s over, you’ll not only not get jack shit out of this bar, you’ll also be missing out on the best woman you will ever meet in your lifetime.”

I start to leave, but he grabs me by the hand, holding me back. “I’m not here to hurt her.”

I yank my hand out of his slimy grip. “Tell that to the girl whose heart you’ve broken.” I leave him standing there at the bar with his eyes storming over.

What a jerk. I shake my head in disgust as I walk to Erin’s office. He thinks he can just saunter in here and scare the shit out of my friend over some false and completely empty threats? I’ve got news for that asshole. He has another think coming. He is so going down. I’ve had enough, and I can see that Erin clearly has too. When I open her door, I find her sitting at her desk with her head in her arms, crying.

I shut and lock the door behind me. “Baby, please don’t cry.” I rush to her side and crouch down with my arm around her back. “It’s not as bad as you think it is, I promise.”

“Yes it is!” she wails into her arms. “It’s worse. Worse than I ever could have imagined.”

I rub her back and speak calmly. “Tell me. Tell me what’s so terrible that you hate me now.”

She lifts her head and graces me with a perfect view of her red-rimmed, swollen eyes and her boogery, runny nose. Even her cheeks look extra puffy. “He was just supposed to stay in Ireland, okay? Not come here. And not come here to destroy everything I’ve worked for!” She hiccups a couple times before she can continue. “He wakes up every day all cheery faced and happy-go-lucky and he works really hard and he gives suggestions all day long that sound stupid and then he somehow convinces me to try them out and what do you know?” She throws her hands up. “Everybody loves his ideas and they hate mine!” She drops her head into her arms and starts to cry again. “I can’t do this anymore. I just can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Of course you can. You’re Erin O’Neill, the strongest, toughest, smartest, cutest, Irish badass I’ve ever known.”

“I’m not tough.” Her cries peter out. Now she’s just being argumentative.

“Sure you are. Tough as nails.”

She lifts her head. “If I’m tough, how come I can’t say no to any of Michaél’s ideas?”

I shrug. “Maybe you don’t want to?”

“What’s that supposed to mean? I’m hung up on his dick or something?”

I smile. This is more the Erin I know. “No, I don’t mean that. It’s been two weeks and you haven’t slept with him, right?”

“No! When would I have time? I work eighteen hours a day. The floor of this place has never been so clean. I even vacuumed the walls yesterday!”

“Excellent. You’re following the plan.” I stand up and lean on her desk, trying to get the circulation going in my legs again. “I think there might be a reason why you’re not arguing too much with Michaél’s ideas.”

“What is it?” she asks, wiping her nose off with a tissue she pulls from a box on her desk.

“Maybe you
like
his ideas.” I shrug again, trying to take the sting out of my revelation. “Maybe other people like them too because they’re good ones.”

She sighs long and loud and then takes a minute to wipe the smeared mascara out from under her eyes. “Well, the clientele has changed a bit, and it hasn’t been entirely for the worse.”

“Tell me about it.” I move over to sit in a chair across from her.

“Well, he took down some of the more Americanized Irish decor and replaced it with more authentic stuff.”

“I saw that drum thingy on the wall.”

She gives a half laugh. “He literally climbs up there two nights a week and takes it down to play. He always waits until the bar is full. Full of upwardly mobile types who like to run big tabs and order bottles of champagne. Now people are calling out to him by name, begging him to play. We have musicians coming from all over the place to join in. The word is getting round.”

I smile warmly. “That’s a good thing, right?”

She shakes her head sadly. “Sure, if we were partners. But we’re not. We’re enemies, remember?”

I frown at her. “I think you might have taken my advice a little too literally.”

She throws her tissue at me. “When my lawyer tells me to treat a man like the enemy, I do it. Am I to apologize now?”

“No, and don’t get all bitchy on me again. I’ve had about enough of that nonsense for one lifetime.”

“Sorry,” she mumbles, looking into her lap. “I’m just at my wit’s end. I don’t know what to do, save throwing the keys at him and telling him to just have fun with his new bar.”

I pull my chair in closer and lean in, lowering my voice just in case the asshole is at the door listening in. “Okay, so here’s the deal. I’ve done some research on the relevant case law.”

She shrugs, still not looking at me. “Okay…”

“It’s all in your favor, babe. All of it.” I’m not going to tell Erin this, but this is also part of the reason she hasn’t seen me in two weeks. I wanted to get the legal research done before I came, so I could bring news with me. I was finally released from the litigation team yesterday, and I spent the entire day at my computer looking up and reading cases for her situation.

She finally looks up and meets my eyes. “What’s that mean?”

“It means that he can say what he wants, but if he tries to bring a lawsuit against you for misrepresentation or any bullshit like that, it won’t work.” I smile so I can deliver the icing on my lawyerly cake. “And you haven’t even heard the best part.”

She smiles a tiny bit. “Well, don’t keep me waiting…”

“Our contract has an attorney-fee clause in it.” I grin like a giant clam. I am so the boss when it comes to this lawyering thing.

She frowns. “I don’t get it.”

I sigh loudly. “It means that if he brings a lawsuit and loses, he pays for all your fees and costs. All of them.”

“But you’re working pro boner.”

I shake my head.
So pitiful.
“Screw working pro boner. I’m going to bill you for everything and then just write it off if I have to, pay the bill on my own, whatever. Let me show his lawyer my
potential
bill along with the case law and she’ll tell him to back the fuck down in about two seconds.”

“Are you sure about that? Maybe she’s a real ball buster. Maybe she’ll tell him to go for my throat.”

“Not if she doesn’t want to get sued for malpractice, she won’t. The case law is crystal clear. I could try this with my eyes closed and one hand tied behind my back.”

Erin grabs another tissue out of the box and stares at me as she wipes her nose. “Are you sure about this?”

“Dead sure. He doesn’t have a leg to stand on. He had a duty to ask for what he wanted. Accounts, ledgers, tax returns, the works. What did he ask for?
Nothing
. The court doesn’t reward idiots, especially when they enter into business deals. Business deals are for business people. He wants to play businessman now? Too late. Too bad, so sad. He can hardly claim he was taken advantage of. He’s a frigging business owner himself!”

“Have you talked to his lawyer about this yet?”

“No. I wanted to talk to you first.” I sit back in my chair. “So what’s the deal? Are you going to let this play out naturally or do you want me to end it right now?”

“What do you mean?”

She looks so vulnerable, I want to hug her. But I stay where I am because I’m not sure she’ll accept my hug yet. “I know you have feelings for him, and for the past two weeks, you’ve been living together under very difficult circumstances. This whole time you’ve probably been thinking that I screwed you over and didn’t care.”

Her lips tremble. “That about sums it up, thanks.”

My voice goes softer. “Now you know that I love you dearly and that everything is going to work out okay. So do you want to let him stay, maybe show him around the city, enjoy part of his trip, or do you want to full-stop end it?”

“What would you recommend?”

“Are you sure you want to hear my recommendation?”

She sighs, throwing the other tissue at me. “I suppose you haven’t led me astray yet, so I might as well.”

I think that’s about as much of an apology as I’m going to get, so I accept it silently and move on. “Ride it out. Let him do his thing. But look at the relationship not as one that could end your future, but one that will carry lots of nice memories for you. Besides … you said he’s doing good things for the bar. Maybe he’ll do more of that. Wouldn’t hurt to hear what he has to say.”

“But what if I fall in love with him?” she says in a small voice.

Poor kid. She really is in bad shape. “I think it’s a little late for that, don’t you?” I stand, adjusting my purse over my shoulder. “I’m going to call his attorney and talk to her about this case law stuff. I expect after I send her the citations she’s going to want to do her own research, so it could be several days or even a week before we know anything on her end.”

Erin stands and wrings her hands. “So, I should just play along? Is that it? Pretend like everything’s okay?”

“My advice is to just enjoy your friend. Don’t be aggressive, don’t be mad, don’t be cocky. Just be yourself.”

She drops her chin to her chest. “I don’t even feel like I know who I am anymore. I’ve been angry forever.”

I come around to her side of the desk and hug her, whether she likes it or not. She stands there, her arms trapped at her sides, finally giving in and resting her head on my shoulder.

“You’re going to be fine, Erin. I promise, promise, promise.”

“I hope you’re right,” she mumbles into my shirt.

“I am right. I’m always right.” I pull back and kiss her on both cheeks. “Now wash your face, put some makeup on, and have a kick ass time in your amazing bar.”

Erin smiles, her lips trembling a bit. “It’s my bar? Are you sure?”

“Yes. It’s your bar.” I pinch her cheek and leave her there. At the door, I face her before turning the handle. “I’ll be in touch.”

“I’m still going to text you a hundred times a day,” she warns.

“And I’ll answer you better this time. I’m in my regular office working regular cases now.”

“Love you!” she shouts as I walk out the door.

“Love you too!” I stride from the bar without a backward glance. Michaél can eat my backdraft. He’s going to be
so
sorry that he messed with my best friend’s heart. This is his last chance to make things right, and I sure hope he appreciates it before it’s too late.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

ERIN

I FINISH APPLYING SOME BLUSH and appraise the damage. Some puffy residue, reddish eyes, and a bit of blotching that has now been well camouflaged by some very effective BB cream. It’s amazing what a little makeup can do.